Serendipitous
by trufflemores
Summary: Blaine meets famous author Kurt at one of his book signings. Things do not go according to plan. Klaine AU. WIP.


**Disclaimer**: I do not own Glee or any of its characters; Ryan Murphy and Co. hold that honor. I'm simply writing this for fun, not profit.

"Oh my God, I'm going to pass out."

"You are not going to pass out."

Just then, Kurt Hummel – _Kurt Hummel _– laughed loudly from inside the tiny bookshop room where he was hosting his latest book signing, clearly and _radiantly _amused at something unseen. Blaine almost turned on his heel and hopped over the fence then, certain that whatever was about to ensue couldn't possibly be anything less than morbidly embarrassing.

"We did _not _drive four hours to meet this guy for you to bow out now," Mercedes insisted, planting her hands on Blaine's back and steering him along as they neared the tiny room. _Oh God, oh God, he's right behind that door, oh God._ "Just turn on that Anderson charm of yours and it'll be fine. Or just smile and shake his hand."

Suddenly and horribly self-conscious of his own sweaty palms, Blaine brushed them off on his pants before reaching up to tug at his bow tie nervously. "Was it too much? I mean, I know that he has a thing for the whole – I mean, in his _books _I've noticed that he enjoys –"

"Boo." Mercedes reached up to pinch his nose, startling him into silence. "You will be _fine,_" she said, enunciating each word firmly as she poked him in the chest, a kid in a wheelchair engaging Kurt for a few moments.

Blaine tried to get his racing heart under control, nodding as the queue continued to shuffle closer. "I know," he said at last, because in the rational corner of his mind he knew that he would manage just fine. It was Kurt Hummel – his experience couldn't be anything _but _pleasant. He just needed to stop tugging at his bow tie before he ruined the fabric.

Thankfully, the queue moved quickly – he didn't have time to dismantle his outfit entirely before they were being ushered inside a small room and _there he was._

Blaine hadn't been able to see him over the heads of the other admirers filed ahead of them, but the first sight was breathtaking: Kurt _glowed. _He was lounging in a chair behind a desk, an iced tea at his side and a warm smile on his face as he addressed the fan in front of him, his attention utterly captured. There was a relaxed air to his shoulders that belied contentment; he seemed pleasantly unconcerned at the amount of people that he still had yet to meet and eager to see each new one. Admiring the more superficially pleasing details of his presence – including perfectly swept-up hair, a gorgeous blue button-down with white pants, and of course, his strikingly blue eyes – Blaine almost came to a full stop, stumbling over his feet as the people in front of him disappeared around a corner and Mercedes and he were left.

There was a moment when Kurt's gaze slid over him and he didn't speak, the silence ringing thunderous in Blaine's ears as he thrust out a hand and blurted out, "My name's Blaine."

Amused, Kurt took it, his warm, smooth grasp almost too solid, too _real _to bear, before he said clearly, "Kurt. Pleasure to meet you." Then, musingly, he added, "It's not every day that I see one of my own pieces come to life."

"You work with Brooks Brothers?" Blaine asked, stunned.

Waving a hand flippantly as he signed the book with careless grace, Kurt explained, "I collaborated on a few of the newer works. It suits you," he added, passing him the book and smiling.

_Say something._ Knowing that his time with Kurt was down to milliseconds, Blaine rushed to say, "I'm a really big fan of your works." A pause, and then: "The writing," he clarified. "And the clothes. Although I have to say I'm a fan of _you, _too."

The light blush that stole across Kurt's cheeks was entirely worth Blaine's embarrassment. "Oh my God, I'm sorry, that's so creepy."

"You're hopeless," Mercedes said, reaching up to pinch his cheek as Kurt reached out to sign her book, stilling at once.

"You're – wait. Mercedes Jones."

Blaine blinked, bewildered, as he tore his gaze away from Kurt long enough to glance at Mercedes, who playfully struck a pose and announced, "The one and only."

Kurt signed her book with a flourish that Blaine had trouble following, it was so quick, before he snapped it shut, his expression breaking out into a delighted _beam _as he said, "Oh my God, I have your entire album, you're just – you have no idea how many times you've reduced me to tears, your songs are amazing."

Pinching himself subtly, Blaine watched in amazement as Kurt thrust his half-finished iced tea into Mercedes' hands so she could sign the side with his Sharpie, laughing with him the whole time. They hit it off so well, so _easily, _and for a moment Blaine was jealous in a way that was sharp and unforgiving until Kurt's gaze slid back to his and there was that full-stop feeling again that reduced his world to nothing but _blue_.

"You are – " Blaine couldn't get anything else out for a long moment, his throat already tight with some unspoken emotion, until at last he managed, "amazing." And it was enough for Kurt to smile again, warm as he slipped a tiny card into Blaine's hand – he took it without ever looking away – before bidding them both a good night – and safe travels, of course. (Blaine half-wondered when Mercedes had mentioned how far they'd come to see him, contemplating if he should feel embarrassed over that as well or simply amazed that Kurt had listened at all.)

As soon as they were out of sight – and it was so hard to leave him, Kurt's presence like gravity, drawing them inexorably inward, but his bodyguard was substantial and Blaine didn't want to push their luck – Blaine clasped both of Mercedes' hands and said, "We just met Kurt Hummel."

"We did," Mercedes agreed, "and I think we got his business card," she added, freeing the crushed card from between their fingers with a laugh.

"We just met Kurt _Hummel,_" Blaine repeated, dangerously near a full-blown flailing freak out. At twenty-seven, it was slightly less acceptable than at seventeen, but he couldn't help himself; Kurt was there and gorgeous and absolutely as breathtaking as he had feared and hoped he would be.

Laughing at his enthusiasm – not out of mockery but shared enjoyment – Mercedes linked arms with him and said, "Come on; you owe me dinner, and that cute little Italian place down the block isn't going to stay open all night."

It wasn't until he was overly full and pleasantly buzzed from the champagne that they'd indulged in that Blaine realized the curiosity in the tiny, crumpled business card in his hand.

Kurt hadn't handed it along to Mercedes or slipped it in one of their books – he'd given it to _Blaine._

Maybe, he hoped, foolishly, wonderingly, caught between the stars above and the earth below and Kurt Hummel somewhere, dazzlingly, in between, there was for that.

For now, there was only good food and better company, and Blaine wouldn't have traded it for anything.


End file.
